Auron's Story
by Upir
Summary: The story of Auron, the man who rose to become a Legendary Guardian - and friend - and how the events in his life shaped him to become the warrior who would defeat Sin. NO Yaoi or Romance... Reviews appreciated but not necessary.
1. Auron

Amma held her child in her arms, beaming down. He was so handsome, and she knew he would be strong, in that mysterious way that mothers can almost tell the future. Her husband, Tarak, looked down, as well.

"He's got your eyes," he said.

"He's got your nose," she answered.

They continued staring for a little while, simply admiring their first child, their son.

"Auron," she said.


	2. Tarak

The boy leapt out of his hut, throwing his chest out proudly.

"Come on, dad, there's no time to waste."

"Kid, you've got more energy than I do."

He looked back with a smirk, his dark brown eyes narrowing. His hair was black and flowed back in smooth spikes, while two thick strands hung down on his forehead. He was trying to grow a ponytail, like his father, but his mother did not approve.

"It works for your father because he is older," his mother had said.

"But I want to be older!" he argued. His mother had touched his cheek tenderly.

"I don't," she said softly. "You will have years to grow up; take them slowly."

He had crossed his arms, but kept his mouth shut. There was no arguing with his mother.

His father stepped out of the house slowly, squinting in the bright daylight.

"Are you sure you're ready, Auron?" he asked.

"Yes!" he yelled, running over to his father and looking up into his face happily.

"Alright," he sighed, putting his hand on his son's shoulder. Even for a six-year-old they were broad, and already the boy was headstrong, muscular, and clever. He was heading straight for a place of honor in whatever journey he would choose to take, Tarak knew, and his dedication would only help him get there faster. Auron was already running up the steep hill of their village, waiting to look over the horizon as he often did, watching the rippling meadows and swaying trees with excitement. This occurred most often at sunset, when the sun dipped below the line of the field and turned it onto a sea of orange and red. Tarak followed him slowly.

"Come on, Dad," Auron yelled.

Tarak shook his head.

"Patience is a virtue."

"So is doing what you are meant to do!"

"Maybe what you are meant to do is meant to be done with slow care."

Auron pouted, slowing down to match the steps of his father, but kept his eyes towards the top of the hill.

"We'll get there when we're meant to be there, Yevon permitting."

Auron nodded, but his lower lip still protruded slightly. Tarak took his finger and tapped it from below playfully. Auron looked up, scandalized, but his father smiled. Auron smiled back, something gleaming in his eye. His father sighed.

"Alright, run up there," he relented.

Auron bolted immediately, running as fast as he could towards the top of the hill. His hair whipped back from his face, and he could feel the breeze from the meadow, carrying with it the sweet smell of flowers and grass. He jumped to the top and inhaled deeply, almost drinking the sunlight and beautiful land. His father reached his side and looked out, as well.

"Not many fiends, today, looks like our path will be nearly clear. What else can you see, Auron?"

He examined everything slowly, mentally calculating every possible event, good or bad, that could happen on their journey.

"Sunlight could reflect off of your sword," he said, "Blinding either you or the fiends."

Tarak nodded.

"A low amount of fiends also means a small amount of experience, which isn't great if we come across a big baddie later," he said, getting more enthusiastic and gesturing with his hands.

Tarak nodded again, smiling, but Auron stalled for a moment.

"Also… um… since there aren't many fiends… we might get comfortable… and… not be as prepared…" He looked up to his father for acceptance. Tarak kneeled down to be eye-level with him.

"That is why you must always be on your guard."

Auron knew that his answer wasn't totally right, but was glad not to be reprimanded.

"Now, see that fiend?" Tarak pointed to a small wolf prowling through the grass at the bottom of the hill. Auron smirked. They made eye contact, and Auron rushed down with the sword his father had given him for his sixth birthday.

"Keep it well, son, and it'll keep you," he had said, with a knowing smile at his wife. "And that's true for anything."

Auron had found these words to be more than true, as he almost always did with his father's wisdom. They were not rich people, but not poor; his father was a fiend-hunter for the village, which brought a little money, but the greatest reward of this job was the respect and adoration of the townspeople. Tarak's job was to keep the town safe, and to this task they would entrust no one else. Auron was learning quickly to hunt and defend, and he felt it, every time he rushed at a fiend, or swung his sword, or stood by his father's side as they trained, that curious, but fateful feeling, that _this ­_– protecting others – was his destiny. He felt it run through his veins, it was in his very blood, it_ was_ his blood, and it felt more than incredible. But it was not the thrill of taking a life that made him feel so powerful… it was knowing that in killing something dangerous he was saving the life of another. He brought out his sword, listening to it sing delicately in the wind, and he launched himself at the wolf, swinging down hard and…

He missed.

He landed several feet in front of the fiend with a grunt, whirling around quickly to defend himself as it lunged at him. It tried to bite down, but Auron blocked with his sword, the wolf's teeth gnawing nothing but hard, cold steel. It backed away, snarling, readying itself. Auron did the same. The wolf attacked again, but Tarak had shown Auron how to counterattack. It bit his arm painfully, but when it lunged back, readying itself for another assault, Auron quickly landed a blow on its neck that killed it instantly. It drifted away in a flurry of pyreflies that were almost invisible in the glaring sunlight. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he watched them float and twirl upwards into the sky. Suddenly, something hot and wet dripped down onto his nose, and he looked down. His arm was bleeding, and when he had brought it up to his forehead, it had flowed down onto his face. He wiped it away hastily as his father made his way down the hill, a look of deep concern etched on his face. Tarak put a hand on his son's shoulder and tried to turn him around. Auron refused, still cleaning his face. He did not want his father to see that he had been wounded, that he was weak.

"Auron, turn around, let me see."

"No, dad, I'm fine, really, it just nipped me was all."

"Auron, stop fussing…"

"No, dad…"

"Now, Auron!" he shouted.

Auron froze at first, but then slowly turned around and faced his father. He could not bear to look into his eyes, however, and instead focused on the small silver buckles on his boots. He could feel his father's eyes burning through him as he lifted his son's arm up to inspect the damage.

"Just a nip, huh?"

Auron looked up.

"It doesn't really hurt," he said, trying to steady his trembling lip. He knew that if his father believed he was in pain, he would bring them right back home, go back out on his own and leave Auron sitting with his mother. He loved his mother, dearly, but still favored training with his father to gathering fruits and vegetables in the village. Tarak sighed.

"Let's go home."

"No! I don't wanna go home!"

"Auron, hurry up, your mother will kill me if I don't get you back soon enough after that injury." He pointed to the bite marks now gushing blood down Auron's left arm. The boy looked up haughtily.

"That's a weak spot, I know, but I'll just get a bracer, and…"

"Auron, now!"

He did not want to go home, especially not so early in the day. His father would go out and hunt while Auron had to pick stupid fruits from tree branches he couldn't even reach… He almost felt like running. He could feel it, the earth beneath his feet, almost emitting a pulse, willing him – no, _commanding_ him – to run, just run, to feel the wind in his hair and the ground passing underneath…

Tarak grabbed his son by his good arm and dragged him back up the hill towards the village. Auron's moment was gone, and he could no longer feel that near tremble beneath his feet. He scowled and let his body go heavier so that his father would have a more difficult time dragging him.

"Auron, don't do that," he snapped.

"I'm tired," he lied.

"Get up," he sighed, relaxing his grip a little.

"I wanna go home!" he cried. He didn't know why, really; all he knew was that he suddenly wanted to go, rush into his house, and lock himself away, and be alone…

He pulled away from his father's loosened grasp easily and almost flew over the hill towards the village. He could hear his father yelling behind him, but he didn't care. He had the choice to run back to the field, but it didn't hold anything for him anymore. Now, it was just the place of his failure. He ran as fast as he could down the hill, almost falling several times, but not daring to stop. He was faster than his father, mostly due to his lack of heavy armor and equipment, but Tarak was bigger, and could still catch up if Auron made a mistake. He reached the village, turning a corner quickly and skidding, falling to his hands and skinning them, but he righted himself immediately and kept on towards his house. He flew in through the front door, ignoring his mother's startled cry, and instead ran straight into his room, hooking the curtain closed and throwing himself on his bed. He lied there, seething, staring at his bleeding arm, wishing it hurt more as punishment.

"Auron?" sang his mother's voice from the other side of the curtain.

He ignored her and grabbed an old cloth from his bedside table. He wrapped it around his arm, stuffing it under his pillow as his mother shook the curtain free from the hook. She had her hands on her hips and was glaring at him furiously.

"WHAT has gotten into you?" she cried.

"Nothing," he said.

"Where's your father?" There was sudden concern in her voice. Auron felt stung… was that all she cared about? But he pushed the feeling away. To seek others' sympathy was a sign of weakness. Auron scowled.

"Probably went back to hunting," he said bitterly.

His mother's expression suddenly softened, and she walked into his room, latching the curtain again and sitting next to him on the bed.

"Let me see," she almost whispered. Auron tensed for a second, wanting to be tough and take care of himself, but the imploring look in his mother's eye melted him and he began crying as he sat up and brought his arm out from beneath the pillow. The blood had already soaked through the rag, and Amma made a soothing noise as she took his head and placed it against her chest, hugging him. She comforted him for a few moments, letting him cry it out, before reaching out and gingerly peeling away the cloth. Auron heard her suck in air as she inspected the damage. It was worse than even he himself had thought it was, and looking at it made it suddenly hurt a whole lot more. He cried in real earnest now, sobbing and burying his face in his mother's comforting shoulder. It took her a few minutes and several old cloths, but eventually Amma had stopped the bleeding enough to clean the wound and dress it. Auron swore to himself that he would never let his left arm leave him weakened again.

A sudden stomping at the hut's entrance made Auron freeze with fear. His dad would scold him badly, he knew, and would probably decline his company during hunts for at least a month. His mother made eye contact, giving a significant look, and left the room.

"Is he here?" Tarak snapped.

"Shh, just let him go, he's very upset."

"He should be! He gets wounded and just runs off on me! I was worried _sick_!"

"I know, I know," she soothed, "But just let him go, okay?"

"I need to have a talk with him, _now_."

"Not until you calm down."

Auron heard his father breathe.

"I'm calm."

"No you're not," she said shortly. "He's very upset, you know how he is about getting hurt, let's just leave him alone for now."

"I should…"

"Go back to work," she finished.

He sighed, and Auron heard his parents kiss goodbye before his father left their hut. It was a few more minutes before his mother came in with a glass of water. She sat back down on his bed and smiled. He couldn't help it; Auron threw his arms around her and squeezed. His mother understood his hatred weakness, why couldn't his father? Wasn't his dad supposed to be the one to let him face his pain? His mother soothed him, yes, and dressed the wound, but somehow, she was the one who understood that getting injured was not supposed to mean you should quit and go home. Someone in pain should be helped, not coddled or let off of duty. Auron appreciated that, and came to the conclusion that his mother knew a lot more about this kind of thing than he thought. She stroked his hair, her finger snagging on the band that held his short ponytail together. She made a face, and Auron giggled, wiping the remainders of the tears from his eyes.

"Think dad will let me go with him tomorrow?"

"No," she said, and Auron's face fell. She stroked his cheek. "I just mean that you should let your wounds heal a day or two before running back out there. You could compromise your attack if you don't rest on it."

Auron was surprised again, but gave her a brave face.

"And for Yevon's sake, you're only six!"

Auron laughed and lied back on his pillows, drifting off into a comfortable sleep.


	3. Amma

Auron stood at the edge of the beach, letting the sea breeze tousle his long black hair. He watched the waves adoringly, how the white caps of them threw themselves down into the sand relentlessly. He felt his mother's hand on his shoulder.

"Auron?"

"I'm okay, mom, just… watching."

They stared out for a few moments.

"It is pretty, isn't it?" she asked.

Auron nodded.

"Is that why you like it here so much?"

"Huh?" He looked at her in surprise. "Why else would I?"

"Maybe you're trying to get away from us. You're seven, now, most of the other children your age have already stopped holding their mothers' hands or asking for their parents permission to go out." She looked down and knitted her eyebrows. "I know you want your independence."

Auron smiled and clutched his mother's hand tightly.

"I'm not like them," he said, an odd wisdom in his voice.

"I know, Auron."

"You just say that because you're my mom."

"No, I say it because it is true. When have I ever lied to you about things like that?"

He rolled his eyes.

"You say I'm the handsomest boy in the village."

Amma chuckled.

"You are, I see the girls sigh over you."  
"Yet I do not have friends."

His mother's smile faded instantly. She knelt down beside him in the sand.

"Auron, that is something that I have been meaning to speak with you about."

He looked at her calculatingly.

"What?"

"Why do you not spend time with the other children?"

He scowled.

"They're boring," he said unconvincingly. She sighed.

"If you do not wish me to lie to you…"

"I just don't like them!" he blurted.

"Why not?" she urged.

"They are… they just… I want to train, and hunt, all they want to do is run around and hit each other and make stupid faces…" He frowned even deeper, turning to look his mother in the eye. "They act so…"

"Childish?"

"Yes!"

"Auron, that's because they are children! They are not busy thinking of their future jobs or duties to this village! They are having what little fun there is to be had in Spira while Sin is gone! The Calm doesn't last forever, you know."

Auron turned to her in alarm.

"But Yevon says…!"

"Yevon… is not always right."

His jaw dropped, but Amma held a finger to her lips.

"Sin _always_ comes back, and once he does, these leisurely times are not to be had anymore. Summoners must do their duty, and Guardians theirs, and that is the time for training. For now, Auron, have fun."

He shook his head.

"Better to prepare now than train too late."

His mother sighed, defeated.

"You are much too serious for a seven-year-old."

Auron gave a small chuckle that was dry and mirthless. Amma knew that he had picked it up from both herself and her husband, but she did not like it. It was… almost helpless, like defense in the face of an unchanging, uncaring world.

"If none of my peers are serious, who will protect them?"

"You can protect them and have fun, too, Auron," she whispered, almost pleadingly.

He looked back at his mother, and in a voice much too old for his age, answered, "I am destined to protect, and one day, I will protect you, too. I promise, Mom, I'll defeat Sin. For all of us."

His mother's eyes watered as she brought her son close to her, holding him tightly.

"I know you will," she said.


	4. The Attack

"Auron, hurry up," his mother called. The entire village was having a harvest party, and they were due to bring the dessert his mother made. It was comprised of every fruit on the island, chopped and mixed up, and drizzled with honey. Auron loved it, and so did the whole village. His father was carrying two baskets filled with large bowls of the fruit dish. Auron stood up, a shell in his hand, and ran up to her.

"Here, mom, I found this for you."

She took it and smiled. It was beautiful, and whole, and shimmered wonderfully in the sunlight. She hugged him around the shoulders and kissed his cheek. He grinned and ran up to his dad.

"What can I do to help, dad?"

His father looked down benevolently.

"Only eight and already eager to work." He shook his head lightly. "You've got more energy than half this village."

Auron smiled and ran ahead a little ways.

"Stay close, kid, you don't know if there are fiends on the shore…"

No sooner had the words left his lips than a hideously disfigured monster rose from the shore, dripping sea water and weed, its odd fangs bared and scooped hands readied. Auron drew his blade and stood completely still, his veins pulsing with that familiar feeling of destiny. He heard his father run up to him on the sand, drawing his own sword.

"Auron, get back!"

"No, dad."

He looked down at his son, at the intensity in his eyes, and knew. Auron _lived_ for this.

"Let me go first," he said.

Auron nodded.

Tarak lunged forward and hacked at the beast's arm, though it did not do much damage. It swung back at him, hitting his side and making him fall to his knees.

"Dad!"

Amma joined the fight, healing her husband. Auron knew he was in good hands, and jumped at the creature to strike at the same arm his father did. It did not do much damage, either. Tarak readied himself and quickly performed an Armor Break. The creature howled in agony, and Auron hit its arm again. It fell off and disappeared, and the creature swung with its other arm, hitting him and launching him back onto the sand. His mother healed him, as well, and looked into his eyes with concern.

"You do not have to join this fight," she urged.

"My place is by your sides," he said, smiling at his parents. They both nodded, and Tarak attacked the other arm. This time, it fell off with just the one hit, and the creature shrieked again. Amma cast fire at its head, stopping only to heal her husband and son while they attacked the monster's body and arms when they reappeared. Finally, Auron, using all of his strength, vaulted with his blade aimed at the beast's chest, and drove it in, slicing down as he fell to the sand. It gave one last, angry scream and disappeared. Auron was gasping for air, his heart pounding, but the thrill and adrenaline he felt pulsing through him was better than anything he had ever felt before. His mother and father held him closely, but there was worry on their faces.

"I've never seen a fiend like that, before. What was it?"

They looked at each other before his father answered slowly, "A Sinspawn."

"But… but they only come when…" Auron stuttered. His eyes drifted out towards the sea, where a gigantic monster, impossibly large, was heaving itself out of the ocean. Auron screamed and his parents held him tightly, picking him up and running away. From between the safety of his parents' arms, Auron could hear the entire village shouting, children crying, and everyone's footsteps beating the earth as they ran as fast as they could away from the sea. But even so, they could feel a cool mist settling down on the village like salty spring rain, and they knew.

Tarak and Amma stopped and fell on the ground, shielding Auron.

"Mom, dad, what are you doing? We need to run!"

They only smiled. Auron noticed the tears in their eyes, and began crying, too, a silent weep not for himself, but for everyone else he had already failed to protect.

"Listen, honey, whatever happens, wherever we go, we love you," his mother said.

"Don't ever forget that," said his father.

They were both smiling.

"B-b-but… I… I don't want you to go!"

His mother and father both wrapped their arms around their son, and he could only see the barest glimpse of the sky, and an odd shadow was blocking it out.

"Love you," they said, clutching, shielding, and before he knew what was happening, his parents were yanked from his grasp, and he, too, was pulled into what he knew must be some kind of tornado. He closed his eyes tightly; he did not want to see where he was going, but, more importantly, he wanted to keep the memory of his parents alive in his memory as vividly as possible… he wanted to be able to tell them how much they meant to him… Later on, he thought, he could. But suddenly, he hit the earth hard and all he knew was darkness.


	5. The Aftermath

There was sunshine. And warmth. But… coldness, too. Auron's eyes fluttered open feebly. He looked around, but all he could see were crying people, others in robes, and… bodies. He sat up quickly, tears coming fast in his sudden, realizing panic, and he scanned the area around him for his parents.

_Nothing._

He jumped up, but the exertion made him dizzy, and he tried with difficulty to remain on his feet. After the vertigo had passed, he began to run through the sea of bodies, scanning every face, every familiar piece of clothing, anything that could give him a clue as to what had happened to his parents…

"Auron!" a voice cried. He turned around, his heart leaping into his throat, and his face lifted in expectancy. But his hopes were dashed as one of his neighbors ran over to him and knelt by his side. She had a pretty face, and red hair, but now… she looked devastated. Her calm blue eyes were filled with tears and sorrow, and Auron noted her husband's wedding band had joined hers on her finger. He was dead.

"Auron, sweetie, can you come with me?" She tried to lead him away, pushing him towards a priest, but he dug his boots into the ground and quickly maneuvered around her. She called out to him, but he bolted in the opposite direction of where she had been pushing him. He scanned the deceased with his eyes as quickly as he could, hoping, and yet dreading. But his answer came soon enough as he saw a pair of bodies lain next to each other serenely. He knelt down, tears falling quickly down his nose and chin as he gazed into the still, slackened faces of his parents. Their eyes were closed peacefully, and Auron knew they would never open again. He threw himself at the ground next to them, trying to lie between their bodies, but a priest pulled him away.

"Son, son, please," he soothed, but Auron shrieked loudly in pain, and anguish, and hurt. He had never felt so incredibly devastated in all of his life, he couldn't bear it, he wanted to die, he just didn't want to be here, staring at the dead bodies of his beloved parents…

"Please," the priest begged, kneeling down, but all Auron could do was scream, and struggle, and cry. The priest suddenly held him, putting a hand on the back of his head, and Auron cried into his shoulder for what seemed like an eternity. When his tears had somewhat subsided, he looked up into the kindly, yet careworn face of the man. He had slick black hair and a kind face, similar to his father, though the priest was a little heavier. His eyes had that same warmth to them, and his small smile helped Auron to relax and breathe. While he wiped away his tears, the priest began his dance, and sooner than Auron would have liked, his parents disappeared before him in a burst of pyreflies. They twirled around him for a brief few moments, two of them stroking either cheek, before floating away and disappearing forever. Auron began sobbing again.

"Son," said the priest, "They have found rest on the Farplane. Be happy that they are there."

"But I want them here!" he cried. "It's not fair!"

"Death is the fair price we must all pay for our lives, however long or short they may be. Be consoled with the fact that they are together now, for eternity."

These words did nothing but make him cry harder.

"Come with me to the Temple in Bevelle," the priest said. "They will take you in gladly, and you can be friends with my daughter, Amira."

Auron followed him willingly, giving one last look to his village, and finally, to the spot he had last seen his parents. As they walked over the hill, Auron turned away and looked towards the horizon.


	6. Bevelle

When he arrived in Bevelle, the city was like nothing he had ever seen before. There were tall, stone buildings with beautifully ornate decorations, tons of people in odd clothing, and, strangest of all, machinas, here and there around the city. Auron knew that they had been forbidden, but remembered his mother telling him that certain ones - machinas not meant to hurt people or that were approved of by the church of Yu Yevon - were allowed. Auron recollected this talk with his mother with a pang; he would never again hear her voice, her wisdom, her stories…

"Auron?" The priest called him over and he walked up solemnly. "Are you alright?"

Auron gave him a morose look.

"Ah, of course not, how silly of me…"

Auron still did not speak, only kept his eyes on the people around him. They seemed richer, more prosperous, more carefree… he envied them. Normally those in his situation were left to fend for themselves in the village, cared for by those who were willing. He thought about it. Why did this priest bring him here, then? Was there no one that wanted to take him? He didn't think he was a bad boy… in fact, he thought he was the most mature of all the children in the village. But then it dawned on him… the children in past years that had been left orphans went to the homes of their friends. Since Auron had had none (and this was well-known), the priest had probably found out from the boy's neighbor and agreed to take him. That was why she had been pushing him in his direction. But Auron suddenly remembered what the priest had said…

"_They will take you in gladly…"_

Was he to be adopted by the temple? Did they do such things? Why wouldn't the priest take him in? Was it the same reason that no one else in his village would? Was he not good enough? He looked up to the man, but he only gave Auron a sympathetic smile as they walked into the enormous temple. The priest bowed to a rather tall woman with dark skin, her hair done up beautifully with beads and jewels. She smiled down at Auron.

"Who is this, Medwin?"

He looked down at the boy and gave him an encouraging smile. He stepped forward nervously, gazing up at the beautiful woman.

"My name is Auron," he said meekly.

She grinned and knelt down to be eye-level with him, which was difficult due to her height. She placed her fingers under his chin and lifted up.

"I heard Sin attacked your village. For that, I am sorry."

Auron was a little confused.

"Do you control Sin?" he asked.

"Heavens, no!"

"Then what have you to be sorry for?"

The woman stood and laughed heartily, though there seemed to be a deep, underlying sadness in its tone.

"He is wise," she said. "Inadvertently or not. What reason have you brought him here?"

"His parents were killed by Sin."

"I guessed, after Lord Eruss had told me of the attack, and you brought him here," she said, gesturing to Auron. "But I heard there were survivors in that village… many more than we could have hoped for. Was there no one that would take him?"

The priest, Medwin, took the woman aside and they began talking in low tones. Auron, however, who had always had a keen sense for it, could hear what they were saying.

"…So, since there were no family friends, he had no where else to go."

"Would no one else have him? What kind of village is this that goes against the teachings? And human decency, for that matter?"

"Most of the adults had died, and most of their homes with them. Room is stretched as it is, and only his neighbor was willing to take him."

"Then why didn't he?"

"_She_ said she would not be willing to do so without her husband. He perished, too, you see. She was quite devastated."

"That was his only hope?"

Medwin nodded.

"He could do well here. His neighbor told me his father trained him well to be a guard of the village."

"Monkhood, then?"

"I believe he would do well there, yes."

They turned around to face Auron, who looked away guiltily. The woman knelt down again.

"Auron?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like to stay here, at the temple?"

He looked up at her. Her green eyes sparkled brightly, full of hope and love, and he couldn't help but some close to smiling.

"You will adopt me?"

The woman's smile faded instantly.

"I'm afraid I cannot. I must go on a pilgrimage, soon. I could not put you through that."

Auron looked down. He expected to be hurt, but instead, there was just a hollow numbness that somehow seemed to fill him. She lifted his face again.

"But if I can bring the Calm, would that not make you happy?"

"It will not bring my parents back," he said.

Suddenly, tears burst from his eyes again, and he began crying as if he had never stopped. The woman tried to console him, but Medwin stepped in.

"I will have you meet my daughter tonight; she is about your age, and I'm sure she will keep you good company." He gestured to a guard.

"Give him a room here," he said. "Make sure he is well rested."

The guard nodded and escorted him away. The woman gave him one last, sad look before turning away and following Medwin out the front door.


	7. Friend

Auron stabbed his fork gingerly into the meat on his plate. He had no appetite. And why should he? His parents were alive only a day ago… he had failed to protect them, and they forfeit their own lives for his. He felt suddenly guilty… It was his fault that they were dead. Had he not been born, or succeeded in his promise to help others, they would still be alive. He was only eight, why should he have been protected? He felt worthless without them. His whole life had meaning only when he brought down a fiend or stood up to a monster. Now, the only beast he would encounter here would be the dead, blackened kind now sitting on his plate. Auron scowled and set his fork down, not bothering to look up.

"Auron, why don't you eat?" Medwin asked.

"I'm not hungry," he said.

"You need your strength."

"For what?" he seethed, his voice rising slightly. "My parents are dead. My village is dead. There is no one left for me to protect. Of what possible service could I be?"

Medwin sighed and placed his crystal wine glass down on the table. Medwin had brought him home for dinner so that he could meet his daughter, Amira, who had said almost nothing the whole night, only staring at Auron in a curious manner that made him extremely uncomfortable. She had long, black hair that was pleated neatly, gems encrusting her golden headband. Her eyes were a frighteningly cold silver that shone brighter than the dinner utensils, and he could feel them burning into him. Auron glanced down the table, scowling. There was nothing but excess in this house… it made Auron sick and homesick at the same time. The tablecloth was of fine, expensive silks imported from an unknown, secluded village somewhere near Macalania, along with the napkins and curtains. Their plates were trimmed with gold, while their wine glasses were of the finest crystal and even some of the serving spoons had gems in their handles. Amira, a girl of only eight, was wearing the same gold and gems and silk, and held herself loftily above the servants here. These things alone were such a drastic change from his peaceful village, enough to make him sick to his stomach, let alone the fact that his parents had died only a day before. He pushed his plate away and examined the floor.

"Auron," Medwin said, a warning tone in his voice, "Be grateful for the hospitality we are showing you."

Amira gave him a haughty glance and Auron frowned back at her.

"You should be thankful," she said airily.

"For what?"

"Food, a roof over your head, good company."

"I don't want any food, the only roof I wish to see now is the one of_ my_ home, and nobody in the world could ever replace my parents."

"They're dead, right? Then why are you so angry? Being rude can't bring them back."

Auron stood up, his fists clenched. Medwin stood also, placing his hands on the table and glaring at Auron.

"You will sit, young man!"

Auron gave him a rebellious smirk and immediately bolted out the door.

"AURON! COME BACK HERE!" he yelled, but Auron just ignored him.

_He's not my father, no matter how much he resembles him. No one will be… and no one can take my mother's, either… I wish I could see them… Mom… Dad…_

He began crying as he ran, the tears flowing back into his long dark hair with the force of the wind. Auron didn't know where he was running, he just knew it was… away. He didn't stop for anyone, not even the people he knocked over or those who screamed curses after him. He ran until his lungs were burning, his legs aching, his stomach turning horribly… he stopped behind a tall, stone building on a secluded street, bending over and gasping for air.

_I escaped! Ha! Let's see them find me now!_

He sat down, still catching his breath, and looked out over the city. It reminded him of the meadow next to his village, somehow… the way the sun set behind it, turning it into a fiery sea…

"Hello."

Auron nearly jumped out of his skin, leaping up and taking a defensive stance.

"Calm down," said the figure, stepping out from the side of the building. "I'm not going to hurt you."

It was a rather thin, pale boy, with soft dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He was holding his hands up in defense, smiling calmly.

"What do you want?" snuffled Auron, wiping his face.

"I saw you run here," said the boy, "And I heard you crying. I was wondering if you were hurt."

"Well, I'm not, so you can just go away now."

Auron turned away, looking back at the city, which had lost that beautiful orange glow already as the sky turned dark. The boy stepped closer.

"I'm Braska," he said, holding out his hand.

Auron considered it for a moment before turning back to him and shaking it, responding, "I'm Auron."

"Nice to meet you."

He nodded and sat down again in defeat, still rubbing the tears from his bloodshot eyes. Braska sat next to him, sighing.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" he asked.

Auron froze, thinking of the day on the beach with his mother last year with a hurtful pang. He grabbed his chest, hoping to squash it away.

"Are you alright?"

Auron nodded.

"What's wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Auron simply stared at him.

"Why do you care? What do you want from me?"

"I only want to help," he said defensively, hurt.

"So did Medwin, and Amira, but they're…" He fell off, shaking his head. "Who cares? I'm not going back there anyway."

"Medwin? Amira? Are you sure?"

Auron gazed at him.

"Yeah," he snapped.

Braska merely made a disbelieving face, trying to hide it behind a supportive smile. Auron was furious.

"Medwin's a priest… he… he sent my parents away!" he shouted. "He sent them away and now they're dead and there's nothing I can do and nobody cares and I'm all _alone_!"

He cried again, bringing his face down into his knees. He didn't care if this boy was disgusted or not; why should he? If he ran away, good, he didn't want company anyway. He didn't feel he deserved it. Instead of pulling away, however, Auron felt the boy place a kind hand on his shoulder. He looked up, tears still streaming down his face in strong, thick rivers.

"Was it Sin?" he asked.

Auron's anger suddenly melted away and he nodded slowly.

"One day, someone will defeat Sin. Sometimes, I…" He froze again. "If you are truly living with Priest Medwin, I am not sure you would be wise in talking to me."

"Why not?"

"My parents, they… they were not welcome members of the Temple."

"What did they do?" he asked.

"They were accused of heresy because of their views on the Al-Bhed."

Auron remembered his mother mentioning the Al-Bhed, though did not know much about them. He knew they were excommunicated from Yevon because of their acceptance of machina, but beyond that, he knew nothing.

"Did they not like them?" he asked.

Braska laughed a little.

"On the contrary, my friend, Yevon does not! My parents argued that we should make peace with them, that they are not so different, all they want is freedom from the sacrifice Summoners must go through to defeat Sin."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Auron thought that was a silly reason to excommunicate people, but was smart enough to realize that saying so could get him into some serious trouble. He thought about it for a few seconds.

"My mother, she used to say..." Auron looked around him for a second, making sure all was clear before whispering, "She said Sin always comes back."

Braska gave a sad smile.

"But in what other fashion could we ever hope to defeat Sin? The Al-Bhed are looking for this answer, but until they find it, Summoners must continue to give their life to try and save Spira."

Auron nodded thoughtfully. He could understand this; sacrifice for the sake of others for such a noble cause was something he could relate to. Braska sighed.

"Only do not relate these things to others, you can get into trouble."

Auron shrugged.

"With who? I have no family left, no friends."

"You have Priest Medwin and Amira."

Auron shook his head.

"They are no friends of mine. Their lives are nothing but luxury… what do they know of what I have gone through, or what anyone else has, for that matter?"

Braska gave him an eager _shh_.

"They are well respected in the Temple. Do not slight them."

"Do you respect them?"

"Yes. Priest Medwin has done much holy work for the temple, and works endlessly to send those who have perished to the Farplane."

"Including my parents," Auron said ruefully.

"Would you rather they had become fiends?"

Auron jumped up angrily.

"Are your parents still alive?" he shouted.

Braska gave him an apologetic look.

"Yes, they are, and I'm sorry, but there was nothing he could have done to bring them back. Better that they find peace than roam the world as fiends, hurting others."

Auron calmed down. His worst possible fear – his parents, or himself, hurting others – had been averted by this priest. Auron still did not trust him, however, but decided to keep this to himself. Braska stood up, dusting himself off.

"I don't wish to worry my par…" He halted, thinking for a second. "It's best that I go home, now. You should go back, too."

"I guess so," he said.

"And Auron?"

"Yes?"

"I hope to see you again soon, friend!"

And he ran off, leaving Auron alone with just one word:

_Friend._


	8. Wen Kinoc

Auron had remained sitting where he was until a city official had discovered him and brought him back to Medwin's estate.

"We were worried!" he said testily.

Auron looked away, a little ashamed. Perhaps he had been ungrateful… but Amira's cruel comments were enough to send anybody over the edge.

"I do not wish to punish you, as you are still settling in, however I must insist that you go back to the Temple immediately!"

Auron simply nodded.

He wouldn't want to be any closer to Amira than necessary. As he was escorted from their enormous house, Auron noticed the little girl staring at him from her window with an odd, distant smirk. He scowled and looked away, once again focusing all he could on what lied ahead of him.

* * *

It was a few days later; although Medwin had since forgiven his behavior, Auron could not help but feel… well… _watched._ His first training session at the Temple was both a relief and a punishment. The Master there was unmerciful, cruel, even. Auron did not like him much, but refrained from saying so. The man seemed capable of actually enjoying beating a child, but he didn't want to find out for sure.

"No, you brats! You're doing it completely wrong! Position A!"

Immediately, the entire group knelt down on one knee, staring at the floor. Auron stared determinedly at the Master's shoes as they got closer and closer to where he was kneeling.

"You!"

Auron looked up into his face with a willful glare. The Master frowned even more deeply.

"On your feet, maggot!"

Auron remained where he was.

_I am not a maggot!_ he thought. The Master bent down to be near to Auron's level. He could smell him – sweaty, angry, and reeking slightly of booze.

"Did you hear what I said?" he whispered dangerously. "To your feet!"

Auron clenched his jaw, thinking quickly. He continued his stare at the Master, but did not rise. Immediately, he took a large stick and swung at Auron, who ducked and rolled away. The pole hit the child who had been kneeling next to him instead, a rather chubby boy with a scared face and beady eyes. Auron leapt over to help him up, but the child looked in horror as a shadow fell over them both. He had just enough time to look up and see the pole come down at his face. Auron tried to back away, but the stick hit him in his left shoulder and he cried out in pain. The chubby boy cried for the Master to stop as the other kids looked on, too frightened to move, but fascinated at how this would turn out. Auron kicked the pole as it came at him again, and it went sailing out of the man's hands. The boy charged the Master before he could hit Auron again, but he knocked him aside and grabbed Auron by the scruff of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. He dragged him over to the other boy, who he also yanked up.

"The rest of you brats! OUT!" he roared. The children did not need to be told twice; they jumped up nimbly and ran immediately out the Temple doors. The Master kept a hold of the two troublemaking boys and led them into a smaller, darker room, where various weapons and other intimidating devices hung on the walls. He threw them down to the ground and slammed the door.

"Alright, you shits, you think you can beat me? Then go ahead!" He gestured widely to the instruments around them, but neither of the boys moved. Auron scowled with hatred at this man, not bothering to hide his furious loathing. The boy shaking on all fours beside him merely kept a submissive gaze at the floor. The Master scoffed.

"Well, since you're calm now," he said, in a lighter - but still dangerous - voice, "I think you'd agree to take the punishments for your _impudence._" He said the last work a little hastily, and Auron suspected that he didn't really know what it meant.

"You, chubby."

The boy looked up, his eyes wet and shining in the dim light.

"You know the price for insubordination. Teach the new kid the ropes around here."

He nodded, his thick neck jiggling a little above his tight collar. The Master walked out of the room with his head held high, and Auron felt another surge of anger rush through him. A minute or two after the despicable man had left, the chubby boy rose and sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He held out the same hand to Auron, who only looked at him.

"Ugh, sorry," he said, offering his left hand instead. Auron took it, trying not to picture what might have "graced" that arm. They stood in awkward silence for a moment before the boy spoke up again.

"I'm Wen. Wen Kinoc."

"Auron."

Wen forced him to shake hands again, looking excited.

"You're the new boy I heard Lord Medwin talking about! Is it true that your parents were killed by Sin?"

Auron flinched at his blatant question, scowling still more deeply, an expression that, as the days went by, had already turned into a natural habit. He wondered if, because the city had not seen an attack from Sin in many, many years (had they ever?), the people living here were unfazed by it. Perhaps they thought that their money and power could protect them? Auron shook his head lightly in thoughtful frustration as Kinoc looked on, a curious expression on his face.

"What?" Auron snapped.

"Y-you tried to help me… back there. When Master Mahlah was…"

"He was trying to hit me, not you," Auron interrupted, suddenly impatient. The boy was annoying.

"But you still tried to protect me!" His eyes were full of tearful admiration; Auron felt a strange mix of disgust and flattery.

"I did what any _respectable_ person would do. Protect, and defend."

Wen's wide cheeks flushed red.

"But you don't know what it's like, being beaten, and made fun of, and worked like a dog… At least dogs get some sleep."

Indeed, when Auron looked at the boy, there were dark rims beneath his watery, bloodshot eyes. He sighed.

"And everyone's too afraid of him to complain!" Kinoc continued. "He'll beat us even more if he finds out we told, because nobody ever believes us!"

"He'll get his," Auron muttered. "But it is not up to us to decide his fate right now." He suddenly felt adult, in control. Was he advising this boy? Who was he to tell him what to do, or feel? He rubbed his sore shoulder distractedly. Kinoc furrowed his eyebrows.

"We'd better get on those chores if you don't want a twin of that," he said, pointing to the area Auron was rubbing. When he lifted his hand, it was to see a wide, dark bruise already spreading across his shoulder. He made a soft little snort.

"Then let's go," he said, Kinoc leading the way to the back of the Temple, their footsteps echoing in the empty hall.


	9. I promise

Auron examined the area around them silently, peering around every corner with his hand on the hilt of his blade, ready for an attack. He listened, carefully, trying to hear the sound of scuffling feet, or breathing, or even the light ruffling sound of clothing as someone shifted. All he heard, however, was Braska sigh behind him.

"Auron, you don't have to do this."

"But..."

His friend put a hand on his shoulder.

"You are far too tense, lately. I've known you for ten years and you've always been protective, but..."

Auron raised a stern, but questioning eyebrow.

"But what?"

"But this is ridiculous!" he laughed, gesturing around them.

It was dawn. Pale blue light was already beginning to fill the empty streets, but small dark shadows remained here and there, behind the buildings, trees and boxes. The sweet scent of cherry blossoms drifted towards them on the cool, gentle breeze, bringing with it the petals themselves, delicately pink and soft. They landed in their hair like spring snow, softly and quietly. Auron shook them out, watching them fall to the ground below. The only sound that came with the beautiful breeze was the occasional tweeting bird or creaking bough. Even in these calming surroundings, Auron's every nerve was on end, his muscles tense and constantly itching to draw his blade. Braska could tell that something was wrong. Auron lowered his arms with begrudging effort.

"That's better." He gestured to a nearby stack of ornately decorated wooden crates, where they both promptly sat down. "Now, is there a reason you're so on edge?"

Auron muttered something, seemingly ashamed. He did not like to disclose his feelings or thoughts very often; only when Braska truly pried did Auron relent.

"What was that?"

He muttered again, and Braska vaguely heard the name "Amira."

"Ah, is she troubling you again?"

"She follows me everywhere," he hissed. "I do not think my shadow could get any closer."

Braska laughed and Auron gave him a look of betrayal.

"I do not find it funny!"

"She's probably got a crush on you! After all, you're a quiet, mysterious orphan boy with long dark hair and broad shoulders..."

"Sounds like you two have been talking."

Braska laughed again, a soft and comforting sound.

"No, but I know the type. There is a girl in the Temple who is training to be a Summoner... she has feelings for a boy named Gethin. He's all she can talk about."

He shook his head.

"You hate her don't you?"

"She gives me funny feelings," was all he could manage.

Braska looked alarmed.

"You mean you...?"

Auron was confused for a second, but one look at Braska's face told him that his friend had misunderstood.

"No no no! She's... she's... there's something... _bad_ there," he finally finished. "Like a sweaty sock in a newly made bed... She looks normal, but there's something under the surface that stinks."

"Great analogy."

"Thanks..." he muttered, a little embarrassed by his own low-brow comparison. "But it's true."

Braska sighed.

"Be that as it may, Priest Medwin is quite fond of you. There are not many who are in his good graces, nor as close. You are lucky to have this connection, even if it does come at a price."

"I would rather not have his friendship."

Braska raised his eyebrows as high as Auron had seen them go, but was relaxed when he spoke.

"That is a dangerous thing to say, Auron. To betray a Priest is to betray the teachings. It's blasphemy."

"Like it is to be kind to the Al-Bhed?" he shot. It was a low blow, and he regretted it as soon as it had come out of his mouth. He could tell by his face that Braska was hurt. It was funny that, as a Priest-In-Training, Braska took no offense at insults thrown their way, however stood up to a discriminated minority in Spira of which he was not even a part. He stood, calmly, and looked his friend in the face.

"Auron," he said, "There is more to life than shunning others."

Auron looked up from his seat on the box. He suddenly felt dirty, and bad. His face flushed red as he looked earnestly up at Braska, his eyes beseeching him for forgiveness.

"I did not mean to insult you," he said slowly, quietly. "I apologize."

He paused.

"However - and, forgive me - you do not like the other Priests yourself, yet you are upset at my own dislike of them?"

"No," he said slowly. "It is true, I don't like the other Priests. But I do realize that we must respect them in order to be able to live our lives peacefully."

Braska waved his hand dismissively, ending the conversation. There was something in his tone, however, that suggested he had more to say. Auron gestured for him to continue, and Braska sat down with a sigh.

"I do not follow the teachings to fit in, Auron. I follow them because my heart _believes_ in them. The leaders of Yevon? Yes, most of them are corrupt, power-hungry, though I have met some who are not. These are my heroes, Auron. Not the Maesters, not the other Priests, but the Summoners, and their Guardians." Braska took a deep breath, and Auron looked up at him seriously. He continued. "These are the ones who keep the spirit of Yevon alive. They work tirelessly to protect the people, even at great risk to themselves. Many die for them. But, it is not futile. No - they sacrifice all just to give something nobody can even hold - hope."

Auron looked away, deep in thought.

"It sounds as though you would like to join the Summoners instead of following through on your Priesthood." He turned towards him seriously. "Would you even say goodbye?"

Braska knew what he meant. He was Auron's only _true_ friend; if he were to become a Summoner, they would never see each other again. He put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Auron, I assure you, I will always be there for you. I will even be there to greet you on the Farplane when it is your time to live there."

"Do you promise?" he asked.

"A promise is something very serious to me. I do not take them lightly."

Auron raised an eyebrow, and Braska nodded with a smile.

"I promise."


	10. Braska Missing

"Auron, Auron, please, we need your help!"

He rose from his chair quickly, facing them attentively. Braska's parents were both wringing their hands in worry, looking to Auron in hope. He raised an eyebrow and stood expectantly.

"We went to the Al-Bhed Home a few days ago, to try and forge peace relations, but Braska, he… he…" his mother tried, but broke down crying.

"We haven't seen him for days!" his father nearly yelped. "The last anyone saw of him was when he was with the leader's sister, Kahdma! You knew him best; where would he have gone, what – what could he be doing?"

Auron was at a loss for words. Why would he know where Braska went? It was true, they were close, but Braska had mentioned nothing to him about leaving his parents. Perhaps it was possible that the woman had kidnapped him? Auron did not know much about the Al-Bhed, but thought it somewhat likely, as Braska's parents were not poor, and even as a member of the Al-Bhed leader's family this Kahdma girl would be.

"I am not sure," he said sadly, shaking his head.

Braska's mother resumed her sobbing. "And he just finished his Priest's training!"

Braska's father put his arm around his wife.

"Please, Auron, you must help us."

"But to leave Bevelle? I have not done so since… since…"

His mind flitted back, through his training here, and his new home (he had always considered it "new," even though he had lived in Bevelle longer than he had in his original village), and realized that he had not really left unsupervised during his entire stay. He sighed again, hanging his head.

"I am not to leave unsupervised without the permission of my Master."

Braska's mother stepped forward, calmly, tears still glittering in her eyes, unshed. She took Auron's hands in her own, and he felt an odd sort of jolt go through his body at the sudden realization that nobody had held his hand since his own mother and father. His hands twitched involuntarily, but she ignored it, looking at him imploringly.

"I know your history, Auron. I know what has happened to you," she said slowly, holding back her tears with great effort. "But, if you can remember, think of the loss – the hurt, the pain, the fear, everything – think of how it _felt_ to have a family member torn away from you."

Auron's hands slipped from her own and he stepped back, blinking slowly. He did know – _literally_ – what it was like to have a family member ripped from his grasp. He looked at them one last time before turning away and walking back towards the temple, a fire burning slowly inside his chest.

_I know what I must do._


	11. Challenge

"Mahlah!" he cried, bursting into the temple. He cried his Master's name again. "MAHLAH!"

"What do _you_ want you little runt?"

Auron brandished his blade in his Master's face, growling in a voice much older than he really was.

"I challenge you."

Master Mahlah simply stared at him for a second, then sneered and pushed Auron's blade out of his face. Immediately, Auron retaliated by jumping back and swinging it quickly across his face, cutting his left cheek deeply. The Master staggered backwards, holding his cheek, then bringing his hand away to examine the blood upon it. He snarled, but Auron merely looked on, cool and determined despite his thundering heart. Suddenly, Mahlah unsheathed his blade and lunged at Auron in one swift movement. He stepped backwards awkwardly to try and avoid the blow, but the sword shredded through his thin Warrior Monk's coat and grazed his skin. He swung his blade back at him quickly in retaliation, but was still too slow. Mahlah smacked his face with the flat side of his weapon, sending him sailing through the air and onto the floor, his sword skidding away from him towards the wall. Auron tried to scramble towards it, but Mahlah leapt over him nimbly and pinned the sword to the floor with his foot. He kicked Auron over onto his side roughly; he let out a cry of pain that echoed through the empty hall. Mahlah bent over cruelly, raised his sword…

Without any thought, without any feeling or understanding, Auron rolled away quickly and leapt gracefully onto his feet, twisting around with the momentum and kicking his Master in the face. Mahlah fell backwards onto the floor and Auron grabbed his blade, swinging it at his throat. He cried out in pain and fear as he held the sword to his neck, drawing a thin trail of blood that flowed down the blade.

"I am no longer under your tutelage. You can tell the Temple that I have graduated; I am no longer in need of your lessons."

Mahlah nodded his head slowly so as not to widen his wound, and Auron threw the blade at his feet, walking solemnly up the stairs and through the deserted corridors to his room. Once he entered, he shut the door behind him and immediately began packing what few belongings he had. Once he was done, he gave one last, emotionless look around his room and turned towards the door – to see Medwin blocking the exit. Auron scowled, but the Priest merely held up a hand for silence, motioning with the other for him to follow. Auron obeyed, and they walked quietly through several hallways until they eventually reached Medwin's office. They entered, closing the door behind them, and Medwin turned away to gaze out of the small Temple window with a sigh.

Auron was silent, not wanting to push what might be ill or favorable luck. Medwin looked back over his shoulder at him.

"I've been waiting a long time for this, Auron. Almost 10 years."

"Sir?"

"You could have defeated Master Mahlah at least three years ago. Why didn't you try until now?"

Auron was confused. What was he talking about?

"I'm afraid I still don't understand, Sir."

This time, Medwin turned towards him completely, giving him a tired, impatient gaze.

"Why did you challenge Master Mahlah today?"

"Because… Because…" Auron was not sure if he should tell Medwin or not. It was common knowledge that he was not a fan of Braska's family, let alone the boy himself. To tell him that he was going to find him would probably force him to lock Auron away for good. Auron decided he would just embellish the truth a little bit. "I wish to journey on my own. Perhaps see my old village?"

"Ah, I see, I see." Medwin appeared to mull something over, pacing back and forth, but turned his attention back to Auron after a few short moments. "So, this would have nothing to do with that Braska boy having gone missing on a mission to see the Al-Bhed now, would it?"

Auron was caught! But, Medwin really had no proof; his doubts could be banished or confirmed solely on how Auron reacted to his questioning. He smiled.

"No, Sir, I wasn't aware of it," he said coolly. "I am eighteen now, after all, shouldn't I want to leave Bevelle? It has been rude of me to stay under your care even for this long."

Medwin seemed pleased with Auron's compliments and modesty. He nodded, still smiling, and walked slowly over to a tall, metal cabinet, unlocking it with a key he procured from a deep inner pocket. Auron's view of the contents was obscured by the doors, however, he recognized immediately what Medwin had pulled out from its depths.

"My father's sword!" he exclaimed.

Medwin nodded, holding it out to him. Auron reached forward, unsurely, his hand hovering just above the red and black hilt. He looked up into the Priest's eyes.

"Where did you find this?"

"I took it from your father's body before you saw it. I decided that you could have it, when you were old enough. Now, I think that you have earned his blade."

Auron's stomach turned at the thought of Medwin having soiled its beauty and meaning with his fat, greedy fingers, but took the blade regardless, unsheathing it quickly. Its silver still shone beautifully, the familiar ring of steel unearthing a dozen faded memories of his father, mother and village. How many fiends had this weapon slain, how many people had it protected? He placed it back in its holster gently, tying it to his belt with care and honor. He straightened proudly to look Medwin in the face before giving both a gesture of prayer and his leave.

A minute later, Medwin watched him run from the Temple with a heavy heart; things would be a lot more difficult from now on.


	12. Rough Waters

_Braska, I'm going to ring your neck when I find you,_ he thought.

The ship upon which he was sailing was long and rickety; it swayed with even the gentlest motion from the sea, but right now they happened to be in aftermath of a storm. The waters were still tall and choppy, and hurdled the boat through the sea ferociously. Auron was gripping the side roughly, his face a delicate shade of green, trying with difficulty to keep his stomach settled. This task was made nearly impossible, however, by his worry for Braska. Even before they had set sail his body was a tangled mess of jittery nerves and an upset stomach. Where was his friend? Was he alright? Why had he not contacted anyone? Could he have been kidnapped, or worse?

Auron groaned and pitched his head over the side of the boat, finally giving in to his churning insides. A firm pat on the back wasn't exactly welcome, but it couldn't hurt anymore, either. Once he had finished, Auron straightened himself up, standing as proudly as he could and wiping his mouth to face the stranger. It was a tall, handsome young man about his age with dark skin and straight, golden hair. His eyes were green and swirled…

"You are an Al-Bhed!" Auron cried incredulously.

The man laughed and nodded happily, straightening the thick goggles upon his forehead and bowing politely.

"I am Rin," he said politely, his accent heavy.

"Auron," he responded. They shook hands.

"You seemed surprised at my presence," Rin said. "Have you never met an Al-Bhed before?"

Auron shook his head.

"I've lived in Bevelle since I was eight."

"Ah, then I cannot blame you!" he laughed. Auron was silent. Rin tried to continue their conversation.

"You do realize, however, that you are headed in to an area quite populated by the Al-Bhed?"

"That's why I'm here, actually. This is the only ship that was sailing to Bikanel."

"May I ask what business you have there?"

"I'm – I'm trying to find a friend," he said, trying to remain a little cryptic.

Who knew who this man was? Perhaps he was the same one who had kidnapped Braska? If that was the case, however, wouldn't this man take him to his friend as a prisoner? If they were both taken hostage, it didn't matter, Auron would figure out a way to escape. But something in this man's demeanor… there was something… _kind_ there, helpful.

"What is his name? Perhaps I can help you out?"

"Braska," he said after a moment's hesitation.

Suddenly, a well-built, balding man turned around with a seething glare, snarling, his eyes burning into Auron's.

"Did you just say _Braska?"_

"Yes," said Auron proudly, a little nervous, but suddenly anxious and excited. This man _knew._ He stomped over to Auron and put his face in his, his teeth bared.

"That _bastard's_ run off with my sister!" he nearly screamed. "I trusted him!"

"Your sister?!" he cried. Then it hit him; "Kahdma!"  
"How do you know her name?"

Auron figured he should be completely honest at this point.

"Braska's parents said that during his peace mission, the last person anyone had seen him with was her. They think she kidnapped him."

"Why should we kidnap some brat from Bevelle? He's no use to us!"

"He was on a mission of peace. How else could he go missing?"

"Mission of peace?" He spat. "I know Braska's parents; they keep coming here, crying on about 'peace' and 'acceptance.' If they want to practice what they preach why'd they accuse us of taking their kid?"

Auron shook his head sadly.

"Because they're rich."

"If we kidnapped Braska we would've sent a ransom note, don't you think?"

"You seem to know an awful lot about this," Auron snapped.

"You think I had something to do with it? My sister's gone missing with that religious bastard, you think I'd want to touch something that foul?"

"A likely story!"

"Please, gentlemen, please," Rin intervened, holding his hands between them. "Auron, we are actually on a mission to find Kahdma. Perhaps, if we find her, we will be able to find your friend as well, and they can explain to us what exactly has happened, not just cry baseless accusations," he finished, giving each of them a reprimanding glare.

They backed off, staring at each other in mutual dislike.

"You'd better pray to your Yevon that my sister's still alive," he spat.

"You'd better hope Braska's not hurt, either."

They spent the rest of the trip to Bikanel in silent, seething fury.


	13. In the Desert

"This is your home?" asked Auron.

"Thanks to you Yevonites, it is," snarled Cid.

For the briefest second (before Cid's angry remark), Auron finally felt pity for the Al-Bhed. Bikanel was nothing but a giant heap of… well… _nothing._ The sand dunes were like mountains here, and the strong gusts of wind sent the hot grains down into their clothing, their hair, their eyes and their ears. It was uncomfortable and hot and Auron was suddenly a little homesick for Bevelle. Even the rocking ship would be preferable to this wasteland.

"Let's get a move on," Cid groaned.

"Get a move on? What do you mean? How are we going to find Braska in _this?_"

"How are we gonna find Braska? How are we gonna find _Braska?!"_

Auron scowled, but corrected himself. This man knew Bikanel much better then he did, he was sure, so he would have to be careful not to get on his bad side.

"And your sister, of course."

Cid merely grunted and turned away, walking up a nearby dune. Auron began to follow, but turned back to look at Rin. He was unloading several things from the boat, though it did not look like he was going to be ready any time soon.

"Aren't you coming?" Auron asked anyway. "I thought that 'we' were on a mission to find them?"

Rin smiled and shook his head.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, and I wish to again, someday, however I must get my supplies ready. Starting a business is not all laughter," he said cheerily.

"I hope to meet you again, too. Until then."

Auron bowed to him, and Rin returned the gesture. He followed Cid up the dunes, ignoring the hot sand filling his boots more and more. The walk was tiresome and drained his strength quickly, and the sun's heat did nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. Eventually, they reached a small, sheltered metal "tent" that provided at least a little shade from the sweltering temperature. They sat down, groaning in unison, and Cid brought out a thick, round white jug filled with sparkling water. Auron licked his dry lips; it felt like rubbing two pieces of sandpaper against each other. Cid saw his hungry expression, but grinned to himself evilly and smacked his lips, then poured water into his hand and splashed it onto the bald part of his head. Auron scowled, but turned away; he refused to give this man the satisfaction of his suffering. After a few minutes, Cid rose to keep on walking, but turned back to Auron for a brief moment, quickly throwing the large jug into his hands. Auron drank from it like he was dying, but refused to finish it, deciding instead to tie it around his own waist. Cid took notice, but refused to say anything.

Soon enough – though not as soon as Auron would have liked – Cid brought them to a small series of metal buildings, rusting and full of holes. The sun's setting orange glow did not reach into this deep pit in the desert, instead casting only even more of a shadow from behind the forms of the mountainous dunes. Cid breathed in calmly, happily, then began to slide down into the deep depression, waving at a man who had just exited the closest building. They embraced as he reached the bottom, and began talking animatedly in Al-Bhed. Cid gestured with a growling voice to Auron, and the man took his figure in with complete dislike. He walked up to him, scowling.

"You, Yevonite, do you think you can push us around here?" he snarled, his accent so thick he was almost incoherent. "Your laws are for the rest of the weak in Spira."

There were a few noises of general assent around him, punctuated by heavy footsteps approaching from all sides. He felt a strange, conflicted homesickness for Bevelle rise within him again, but he willed it away and focused on the angry faces surrounding him. Someone jabbed his side with a sharp metal instrument, and when he tried to pull away, it ripped his Warrior Monk garb even further. He had not bothered to change (or even shower) since his fight with Mahlah early this morning. It seemed so distant now…

Cid raised his hands in a soothing gesture, yelling something in Al-Bhed. They backed away from them, but still kept their unhappy sneers upon their sun-darkened faces. Auron nodded his thanks, but Cid turned away from him, pointing to a shoddy hunk of metal propped up with two equally shoddy poles. Auron supposed that the thick layer of rust was the only thing holding the makeshift shelter together anymore.

While the rest of the Al-Bhed joined around a large campfire a couple hundred feet away, Auron laid himself down to rest, sipping from the water jug and reaching inside his travel pack for the little bit of food he had brought himself. He had just pulled out some tough, dried meat when a small boy approached him. Auron looked at the child with curiosity and suspicion. What could he want?

His eyes were impossibly huge, green and swirled, and his blonde hair hung to one side, as though the wind had swept it there and he hadn't bothered to straighten it. Even at his young age, he had several silver rings in his ears, and looked to Auron with a mixture of awe and contempt. Pointing, he said something in Al-Bhed, but Auron shook his head.

"I'm not sure what you're saying. I don't speak Al-Bhed."

"He is saying that he is hungry," said a woman a few feet away. "He does not speak English. We do not want him to."

He had not seen her there, and her voice startled him. She was beautiful, with choppy golden hair accented with beaded braids and a green headband that matched the signature eyes of her people. She did not smile, but she had a kind, warm face. Auron nodded and handed the boy several large pieces of his jerky. The boy ran away, not even bothering to thank him, but the woman bowed proudly and followed him. Auron watched them go silently.

"That was my son. And my wife."

Auron looked up to see another person standing by him, but this time, he knew who it was; Cid. Auron merely grunted.

"You got a family?" Cid asked.

Auron shook his head.

"I'm not surprised."

"Because I'm so young? There are others even younger than me…"

"No, because you're annoying."

Auron balked, scowling, but didn't say anything. Cid rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Well, thanks."

He walked away without another word and a few minutes later Auron laid his exhausted body and mind down to sleep.


	14. Family Feud

"Auron?"

The familiar voice came to him through his sleep, as though a part of his dreams. He smiled a little, but merely rolled over to sleep some more.

"Auron!"

This time he sat up straight, slamming his head into the roof of the rusted metal tent. He fell back to the sand with a painful groan, holding his forehead in agony. Someone began shaking his shoulder, and Auron's eyes flew open to face…

"Braska!"

Auron sat up straight again – being careful to watch his head this time – and embraced his long-time friend happily.

"I thought you might've been killed!" he admitted.

Braska merely patted his back and gave a small laugh.

"Quite the opposite, my friend."

They pulled away and Auron saw a beautiful woman with golden hair standing directly behind his friend. She smiled, and Auron could see through the dark her shining, swirling green eyes.

"Auron," he said, standing beside her, "This is Kahdma. This is my wife."

Whatever color was left in Auron's face left it. He was too flabbergasted to be polite, and blurted, "You're serious?"

The woman's smile faded and she crossed her arms. Braska actually managed an unhappy scowl. He was always a kind-hearted and accepting person, ignoring peoples' rude comments about his family and himself, shrugging away insults and bad fruit hurled his way in the streets. He would always give them a kind smile as he walked away, never giving them the satisfaction of having hurt him. Now, as his eyebrows were furrowed in angry disappointment, Auron felt a wave of shame wash over him. Of all the people he could have given that absolutely painful look, of all the people that deserved it, it was him. Auron hung his head as he got to his feet, rubbing his head not only in pain now but in embarrassment.

"I apologize. That was quite rude of me. It is a pleasure to meet you, Kahdma."

He held out his hand, not daring to look either of them in the eyes, and she took it.

"The pleasure is mine, Auron. Braska has told me a lot about you."

At this, Auron looked up in gratitude to his friend, then back to his new wife.

"I wish I could say the same for you, but this…" He faltered, afraid of being rude to either of them again. Kahdma finished for him.

"Was quite a shock?" She laughed. "Braska and I just…"

"Fell in love," he said, his usual smile returning to his face. His arm was around Kahdma.

"Braska… I _am_ happy for you both… truly! But… your family is already outcast…"

"So there's no more harm!" he laughed. He sounded even happier than usual.

"My brother, of course, will most likely not approve…" she said.

"You're damn right I won't!"

They all turned on the spot to see Cid, his hands twitching near his waist, where a few small weapons were holstered on his belt. Auron rested his own hand on his father's blade; would the first time he needed to use it be wasted on _him?_ Kahdma held her hands up in peace, however, and Cid lowered his own just slightly.

"Cid, brother, be grateful that I have found happiness with Braska, not angry!"

"He's not one of us," he growled.

"Since when do you hate him?" she snapped. "As I recall, you two were getting along quite well just three days ago, before we left, and for several years before that. Why now?"

"Because… because…" Cid seemed to be struggling with something internally, though did not seem to want to admit it.

"And do you not know what it is to love? Shall I tell Cemahd? I'm sure she would have something to say!"

Kahdma must have been referring to Cid's wife, as the man's scarlet face turned white. Kahdma raised her eyebrows and Cid turned back to red, gritting his teeth.

"She would agree not to let our blood be soiled by an outsider!"

"Soiled? _Soiled?_ Who is it that has been defending us for years, our home and way of life and people? Hmm?"

Braska looked completely out-of-place, as did Auron, and they looked at each other awkwardly as the Al-Bhed siblings battled.

"That's what makes it so disgusting!" he snapped. "If he really cared about our way of life, he wouldn't soil it with his Yevonite filth!"

"WHAT?!" Kahdma's voice had become shrill. She pointed a warning finger at her brother. "You take that back!"

"Never! Yevonite scum!" he snarled.

Kahdma fired a warning shot with a previously unseen gun, but Braska pulled her backwards quickly and the bullet slammed into the ground at Cid's feet instead.

"I don't ever wanna see either of you again, you hear me? Get out! You're a disgrace to this tribe, and a disgrace to your family!"

Kahdma suddenly turned away and bolted through the nighttime desert, Cid spitting in her direction as she did so. Braska and Auron followed her, tripping over rocks, dunes, and rusty scrap metal until after what seemed like miles, she collapsed in the sand, crying hysterically and hyperventilating. Braska knelt down, merely holding her as she cried into his priestly robes, wailing incoherently with her sobs. Auron hung around awkwardly, then walked a small distance away to stand watch as an excuse to leave them alone. He sighed; at least Braska was _safe._ He felt badly about his new wife's falling out with her brother, and yet, strangely conflicted. Was it right that they had outcast themselves simply for a chance at love? Couldn't Braska have found a woman who wouldn't be so condemned?

But, Auron decided, Braska had been right when he said that things could probably not get worse. He and his family were _already_ at odds with the Temple, and Kahdma herself wasn't accepted by them _anyway._ They might as well be happy as pariahs together, following their hearts, than two people who had decided that acceptance from people they didn't even know was much more important. Auron decided that all Braska and Kahdma had done was fall in love; what was so wrong with that? They were brave in deciding to marry. Auron gained even more respect for his friend, and smiled as he approached him.

"Thank you, Auron, for all that you have done."

He bowed, but Auron stopped him and performed the gesture himself.

"I did nothing but watch a man stick up for what he believes in. I am lucky to have been able to see that." He looked over to Kahdma, who had dried her tears and was straightening her clothes out distractedly. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "And I am happy that you are happy. It took a lot of courage to do what you did, and defend yourselves, and I will be here to help you in that effort."

"Auron? What are you saying?"

"I am saying that, as far as I am concerned, you have not lost any pride or good standing; instead, you have proved yourself a greater man than any I have ever met."

Braska lunged forward, hugging his best friend for the second time that night.

"You are a true friend, Auron. I am blessed to know you."

"Ah, enough," Auron muttered, feeling suddenly awkward as both their eyes began to glisten in the moonlight. Kahdma approached the two men, and Auron looked to Braska for approval before hugging his new wife. She smiled and patted his shoulder, reaching for Braska's hand as they pulled apart. Though their journey back to Bevelle was not one full of laughter, it was one filled with joy, happiness, and excited cheer.


	15. The Alley

Time was flying faster than Auron had ever seen it… It seemed like only a week prior that Braska and Kahdma were married; here it was, almost a year later, and Braska was pacing outside the house nervously, fiddling with his right earlobe as he often did when he was nervous.

"Calm down, Braska, she'll be fine," Auron comforted. Braska gave him an appreciative smile.

"You can't possibly know that, my friend, but thank you for trying."

Auron exhaled irritably and looked away towards the end of the deserted alleyway. Braska followed his gaze and frowned.

"She deserves better than this," he said.

"You knew what you were getting into when you married her."

Braska sighed.

"You're right, Auron. You usually are."

"Usually?" he snorted.

Braska looked over with a brief, grateful smile at his joke, but quickly regained his concerned frown.

"I just figured that the Temple really might want to help us. I am a Priest, after all."

"You're lucky they let you keep your title. Even my position was in jeopardy because of our friendship."

"For that I am sorry," he said sincerely. Auron shook his head.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he said.

Braska flashed him another appreciative smile before sighing and looking towards the end of the alley once more with a scowl. The small, darkened lane which they had run down barely an hour before was strewn with trash and discarded goods, the decaying filth rotting in stinking puddles of brown and gray liquids that they had splashed through haphazardly in their mad dash. The dilapidated houses were completely dark and abandoned, save for the one in front of which they now stood, nervous and concerned. This part of Bevelle was normally avoided at all costs, formerly having been a ghetto of sorts with rampant crime and disease, but had long since been vacated, making it nothing but an empty, rotten shell of a street. Braska's face suddenly scrunched up, as though he was going to cry. Auron leapt to his side immediately in comfort, but he merely shook his head.

"What have I done, Auron? This is all my fault. Neither of them deserves this." He gestured to the hollow area around them. "I should be ashamed." He began crying.

Auron stood awkwardly before trying to give his friend words of solace. He was still not a veteran at this kind of thing, but he knew when someone needed his comfort.

"Kahdma knew, too, what was going to happen. You both did. But that doesn't make what you did _wrong._ You couldn't really expect the church to abandon you at a time like this – I don't think anyone did. But, here we are, and there's no point in crying about it. That won't help either of them out."

"This was the only place, Auron, did you know that? A reeking pit of decay and filth. This – this is where my child will be born."

"I'm sure that they will understand."

"But what if they don't? What if – Auron – Oh – What if my child hates me because of this? How can I possibly deal with that? I don't think I could bear it… I can't bear this… I… I…"

Braska slid down the wall and onto the ground, placing his head in his hands and sobbing in earnest. Auron bent down, placing his hand carefully on his friend's shoulder, and whispered to him.

"Your child – if they are anything like you or your wife – will know why this happened. I have a feeling that they will do everything in their power to right these wrongs, Braska. The Temple turned you away at your most desperate hour simply because you married a woman they deemed unworthy… would you want your child to be born in a building full of prejudice, and bigotry, or would you rather they be born in a house that stands despite miserable surroundings? One that has not given in to the rotting of the world around it – one that, although not perfect, stands proud and tall above the rest because it is too stubborn and righteous to be brought down?"

Braska leaned over and suddenly embraced his friend.

"Auron," he muttered appreciatively, his voice muffled by his thick coat. Auron patted his back in comfort and after a minute Braska pulled away, wiping his eyes with his large sleeve. They sat on the ground, gazing at the beautiful night sky above them for several long, thoughtful minutes before the door to the humble shack opened and a kind-faced woman stepped out. They leapt up in worried anticipation, but she merely gestured for them to step inside. Auron looked on doubtfully before Braska practically dragged him inside. He looked around him for a moment before his eyes settled on Kahdma, sweaty and tired, but smiling through the pile of sheets she was almost buried under. Her husband walked over tenderly to the small pink bundle she was holding, and Auron peered over as well, though keeping his distance from their intimate moment. Braska merely gazed down for a few moments before a huge grin lit up his face and his mouth formed the words, _"Yuna."_

Kahdma nodded, smiling herself. "It is a beautiful name," she said.

Braska gestured for Auron to walk over, and he did so slowly and unsurely, awkward and a little afraid. He had never held a baby before, and as his friend held his newborn daughter out to him, he felt twice as odd reaching his hands out to take her. Once she was in his arms, however, a strange, clear warmth settled over him and he cradled her gently, smiling down, but still wearing his usual scowl. The baby looked up at him sleepily; her eyes were different colors – one blue, like her father's, and the other green, like her mother's (though without the swirling iris). He looked up to his friend.

"She's beautiful. I envy you."

Auron's admission was startling, even to himself, and Braska and Kahdma gave him kind, sympathetic looks.

"One day, my friend, you too will take joy in this."

Auron snorted, but graced him with a small smile. Braska looked to his wife, and something unspoken passed between them, but he approached his friend slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We – that is, Kahdma and I – we were hoping that you would be her Godfather."

Auron nearly dropped his friend's child, and the shock of that made him cling to her even tighter.

"Really? Why? Would no one else in the Temple stand for her?"

Braska shook his head with his calm, comforting chuckle that Auron had always enjoyed hearing.

"No, you are my best friend. My only friend, really… and the best man for the job. We know you would be a good father for her in case… in case the… the _unforeseen_ happens."

Auron scowled even more deeply, but as he looked down at his Goddaughter, he felt immense joy and happiness, punctuated by the saying of her beautiful name.

"Yuna."


	16. Walk in the Field

"She's growing up fast," Auron said. Braska smiled in agreement, watching his young daughter walk through the grass clumsily – having just learned to do so less than a week before – picking small, bright flowers along the way. Her pudgy fingers crushed the delicate spring blossoms, but when she ran back to her father and pushed them happily into his hands, he took them gratefully and placed them inside of his robes with a proud smile. She continued to stumble through the field a little ways ahead of them, pausing every now and then to examine a new flower, bug or other curious item. She suddenly giggled and bent over, losing her balance in the process but regaining quickly with an impish grin. Braska laughed and Auron gazed at him in a benign mixture of happiness and amusement.

"She's getting better," he told his friend. "You must be proud."

"Very," he said.

Yuna toddled back to them, and Braska bent to receive her gift at eye-level, but she merely passed him, gesturing instead to Auron. He looked down to where she stood, barely at the level of his knees, and simply stared, confused. Braska straightened and gestured for him to bend down. Auron bent just enough to hold out a hand to Yuna, where she promptly slapped something into his hand and ran away once more. Auron inspected it… It was a rock. A plain, ordinary rock. He made a face, inspecting it as though it held some hidden power, but Braska laughed at him heartily. He looked up at his friend, who shook his head as he snickered.

"She likes you," he said.

"It's just a rock," he sneered. Braska shook his head again.

"No it's not. See?"

Auron examined it once more, but could not find anything extraordinary about it. It wasn't even a pretty color; just small, gray and dull. It didn't glitter or glisten – just sat there like… well, like a rock. He snorted impatiently and held it out to his friend.

"It's still just a rock."

Braska stepped over calmly, something shining in his eyes.

"It's not _just_ a rock," he said with a knowing look. "You'll figure it out."

He walked away, and Auron scowled at him, but placed the small stone inside of his dark robes as Yuna continued to tumble through the grass, Braska following close behind her.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry to the... 2 people?... that read this story, but I'm going to have a delay (again) since I'm almost ready to move into my new home. I've been preparing for a while now, getting everything settled, that's why there's been such a huge hiatus. But don't worry, I'm not giving up, hahaha! Just be patient and I'll be back on track in no time!

:)


	17. Walk into Sunshine

Auron sighed, turning his face away from the crowds and towards the companion at his side.

Braska smiled.

"They're beginning to accept you, I think," Auron said, trying to cover up.

"Nonsense," Braska laughed. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "You know who they're looking at."

Auron blushed, but only just. He looked out of the corners of his eyes at the gazing women, but continued to mutter to Braska conspiratorially.

"No, see, they have mixed reactions. They are not sure whether to fear you or love you."

"Exactly, those women are looking at you!"

Auron threw him a puzzled glance.

"You are to be feared, Auron, not only as my best friend – and therefore a heretical Al-Bhed conspirator – but also because of that massive sword you insist upon carrying around."

"That doesn't explain why they would… be… _enamored_ with me, though." He nearly spat the word, gently stroking his sword as if defending it.

"Do not sit there and pretend you haven't looked in a mirror lately. Tall, muscular, proud, righteous, rebellious... Women _do_ love it."

"I told you they were looking at you."

Braska shook his head jovially.

"How's Kahdma?" Auron asked, trying to change the subject. "And Yuna?"

"They're both fine. You know what Yuna did the other day?"

"What?"

"She tied her own ribbons. I wasn't expecting that for another two years."

Auron's stern face split into a large grin. "She's growing quickly."

Braska nodded with a helpless grin, his head held high. "It's about time you think of starting a family, isn't it?"

Auron scoffed so angrily it wiped Braska's smile off of his face in an instant.

"Something wrong?" he asked cautiously.

"Not with me."

They both stopped in the middle of the street.

"What?" Auron snapped.

"You make it seem undesirable," he said slowly.

"It is," he snorted, but caught the expression on Braska's face and faltered for a moment. "For me, that is," he explained feebly, then hung his head. "Forgive me."

Braska nodded and they continued down the street, guilt and shame hovering over Auron like a dark cloud.

"Why haven't you given it some thought, though?"

"You act as if I haven't."

"Oh-ho!" Braska's face lit up again. "Your tough exterior, just a farce? Who is the lady that holds your heart, then? Is it Yrnelda? I heard she's turned down 5 suitors just for you."

Auron raised his eyebrows, but by some strangeness still appeared to be frowning.

"Or is it Uoluna? Her father's a smith, as you know, and he promised to give his daughter's hand to any man who can best him at swordplay. Your name came up twice."

Auron shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing back down to make the familiar crease between them.

"I know!" Braska exclaimed. "You gave your lunch to Kana Mioji the other day, and even talked with her for a few moments. She's been unusually quiet on the topic of your discussion, everyone figures it's because it was something - _private._"

"I talked with her about her ill father. He was kind to me when I first came to Bevelle. His sickness is to be kept secret to as many as possible - he is the top merchant of the fruit import, and if news of his illness got out it would mean his ruin - nobody wants fruits from a sick old man. As for the food I gave her? As I said, her father was kind to me when I was young. He would give me Manju as often as he could spare some - he knew it's my favorite."

Braska merely stared in what was something very closely resembling pity, but Auron tried to deny it to spare himself the shame. "The truth is," he sighed, "Is that I am in love with none of them."

"No one at all?"

Auron shook his head.

"I have never even been in love. I have yet to know what it feels like."

He blushed angrily, looking away. Braska, surprisingly, gave a small smile.

"I apologize, Auron."

He whipped around to face him, startled.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked.

"I have been pushing you about starting a family; I keep forgetting that I am used to having one, but you…" He stopped, not wanting to seem insensitive. Auron's face softened, but just barely.

"Braska, there's no need to apologize. I just – It's just not something that I tend to give any thought to."

"Is it because of the Temple? Is it because of… _me_?" Braska whispered the last word like a sigh, hanging his head in shame. Auron suddenly understood.

"Braska," he said, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder, "I would rather have your friendship than anything else in the world." He paused. "Including a wife."

Braska nodded, but looked him in the eyes.

"You are younger than me, too, which sometimes I forget. You are always getting me out of some kind of trouble that you seem more like a…"

"Father?" Auron guessed. Braska looked at him with a grim smile.

"Well, I was going to say 'older brother,' but if you insist…"

They chuckled half-heartedly for a few moments, continuing their walk down the familiar streets to Braska's home. They were comfortably silent for a long time before Braska nearly muttered, "But I have seen Amira lately, you know."

Auron's heart sank. As the daughter of one of the most accomplished (or at least richest) Priests in Spira, Amira was one of the most sought-after women in Bevelle. Suitors were at her door every day, and most nights. She had shunned them all so far, however, though some of the men were repeating guests. He sighed.

"I do not even wish for her company anymore… She has become quite a nuisance."

"She's always been a nuisance," Braska blurted, but quickly corrected himself. "Well, at least to _you_."

"But I gave her company on occasion because of her father. He did give me my father's sword back, after all, and at least tried to help me."

"But you don't like him, either."

"Because he is corrupt."

"And Amira isn't?"

"I'm not defending her!" Auron snapped. Braska raised a gentle, though stern eyebrow.

"You mean to tell me that you have no interest whatsoever in her? You two were raised in very close quarters… she has been your shadow since you arrived here… and, though I hate to bring this up, marrying her would mean a comfortable position for the rest of your days. She is well off and well connected; to refuse her would be a folly."

"To marry her would be an even greater one."

Braska gazed at him for a moment in something like admiration. Auron sighed.

"I feel nothing for her but revulsion and pity. Being brought up in her father's shadow has warped her mind… I feel bad for anyone in that situation."

Braska cleared his throat deliberately. Auron gave him a questioning glance.

"You know, Auron, it's not like Yuna won't have to cope with that very same issue."

"You're just _infamous_… there's a slight difference," Auron said, amusement in his voice, much to Braska's relief. "She's strong already… She will know what to do. She…" He hesitated, trying to choose his words carefully. "She'll be alright."

He smiled to show his confidence. Braska returned in kind.

"While I somehow doubt that the difference between fame and infamy is that subtle, I _do_ think that you're right about one thing."

"Just one?" Auron muttered, but Braska continued with a wider smile.

"Yuna _will_ be alright. I know she will. Even now - right now - I feel like everything's going to be alright."

Auron nodded his assent, his dark eyes narrowing as they stepped into the warm Bevelle sunshine. Braska put an arm around his friend's broad, muscular shoulder as they walked slowly down the street towards home, still smiling and laughing.

* * *

Dedicated to Bonnie, aka Bonzai 1990... For riding my *tuchus* from halfway across the globe. Thanks. :)

And to the rest of you who read and review this, of course.

You rock!

You can look forward to another update before Christmas!


	18. The Start of a Summoner

"Auron!" he cried. "Auron!"

He jumped up from his meditative pose, tense and waiting, his hand drawing to his sword instinctively. The pounding on his door and frantic cries made his heart race, his blood pump, his very soul turn to fire. He threw open the door, readying himself, but the attack came much too swiftly. He was thrown backwards onto the floor, pinned beneath a mass of choppy blue robes that was quivering and wailing…

"Braska?" he asked uncertainly.

He lifted his head to reveal a tear-streaked face, bloodshot eyes, and a pained, helpless look that made Auron's heart tear in two.

"What happened?" he asked tensely, lifting both of them up and closing the door.

"Kahdma!" he moaned, over and over. "Kahdma, Kahdma, Kahdma!"

"What?" Auron demanded, squeezing his friend's shoulders and shaking him slightly. "What about her?"

"She's dead!" he cried. "Kahdma's dead!"

Auron's heart sank even lower, and the torn-in-two feeling was replaced with pain and sheer, utter, horrifying agony. Braska's wife… the mother of his child… but… but…

"…But how?" he asked.

At this, Braska's anguished face scrunched into one of cold, seething fury, a look Auron had never seen him make before. It was frightening and moving at the same time. He bared his teeth as his lips spat the words like poison from his body.

"_Sin_," he hissed.

Auron knelt beside his friend, another emotion sweeping over his body – fear.

"You are sure?"

Braska nodded. "It was seen off the coast by the residents of Bikanel. Her ship… She… she was just… just going to see… him…"

"Him?" Auron asked, confused.

"Her brother," he sobbed. "They were finally going to make amends… for Yuna…"

The tears ran suddenly hot and thick down his face, flowing like twin streams of diamond liquid down past his chin, dribbling onto the floor with a soft pat. Auron placed a soft hand on his friend's shoulder, trying awkwardly to comfort, but finding no memory inside of what he was supposed to do. Suddenly, Braska threw his arms about Auron's waist, sobbing into his chest and screaming his deceased wife's name over and over and over again until it was burnt into Auron's brain as deeply as the pain he felt for his friend, smoldering there like bloody embers of a dying fire that was still too hot to touch.

"Auron," he sobbed after a few moments. He looked up into his younger friend's face. "Auron," he said, "Forgive me."

For a brief moment, he was completely taken aback, unsure of how to respond.

"Y-You're sorry?" he finally sputtered. "For what?"

Braska raised himself back onto his knees, wiping his eyes with his enormous sleeves.

"I finally understand how you feel," he said. "What it was like for you, all those years ago."

Auron suddenly understood. The memories flooded back into his brain, his heart, washing over him and filling his body with hurt, anger, fear, pain, sorrow, every emotion turning him back into the child he had worked so hard to distance himself from. He gripped his chest from the pain, squinting and looking away. He had not thought about his parents in so long… it had been so _long_…

"Oh, oh Auron, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…" he tried, but Auron merely shook his head.

"No, Braska, it's… it's fine." He looked over to his friend. "I just… I just hadn't… hadn't thought about it in such a long, long time."

He immediately felt guilty – how could he have forgotten his parents? Their sacrifice for him? Their loving arms, caring faces, gentle guidance? Could he even remember anymore? He sighed, shaking his head again. They sat for a few moments in complete silence, save for Braska's soft sniffling and Auron's uncomfortable shifting. Braska finally sighed and Auron looked up, curious and concerned.

"This is it, Auron. All my life I've wanted to do this, and now – this is what it takes." He looked away in disgust, ashamed of himself, unforgiving.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, an edge in his voice. He did not want Braska to hurt himself, and was worried that he might try out of sheer pain and frustration.

"No, my friend," he said, seeming to read his thoughts. "That is not the path that I meant." He breathed deeply before finishing, "I'm going to become a Summoner."

Auron's heart rose and fell in one quick, sickening swoop.

"A Summoner?" he growled.

"Yes," Braska said, matter-of-factly. He stared his friend in the eyes for a few seconds before blinking slowly and breathing in, and out, and continuing.

"Auron," he began, "When I first heard of Sin, my mother had told me about it, and my father. They said that once we all atone for our mistakes – mainly machina, and the folly of going against nature – Sin will be gone forever. That it was a Summoner's duty to make sure the people had hope for the future, for a world where their children, as I was once a child at the time, would no longer go to bed with nightmares lurking in the back of their minds. When people could build homes again, and cities, where they could dance and sing and the glory of Spira would be restored." He made a soft noise of dissent. "But how can I just wait for these things to happen? When my parents told me, even at that young an age, I knew – I _knew_ – that I was to be destined to defeat Sin." He looked into his friend's face once more. "Auron," he said, serious.

"Yes, Braska?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"I am going to defeat Sin. Not just for Kahdma, and not just for Yuna, and not just for you, my friend. I will defeat it for everyone."

Auron nodded, but Braska continued on his tangent.

"I will defeat it," he yelled, "So that _no one,_" he pounded the floor with his fist, "Will ever – _ever_ – have to go through this pain, ever again. I will defeat it, Auron," he said looking in his eyes. "I will."

The tears fell from his pained, determined face once more as Auron leaned over beside him.

"I know, Braska. I know you will." He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Because I will be there to guard you."


End file.
